


Like a Kismet

by OldeShoestrings



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Background Relationships, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-it Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 17:59:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7943935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldeShoestrings/pseuds/OldeShoestrings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon accidentally introduces Jace to sticky notes and things go downhill from there. (Or how Jace is trying to woo Simon by using sticky notes. Maybe)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Kismet

**Author's Note:**

> _Important A/N:_ Author has never read the books nor watched the movie/tv series. 
> 
> Not a native English speaker and this isn't beta.

-

The first thing Simon did when he produced the blue-and-yellow sticky notes from his drawer was to rip the blue one from its pad and stamp it on the blond’s forehead. Harshly, he might add, and Simon took a simple gush of glee at the low hiss Jace threw at him. _Revenge is sweet_ , Simon chirped. _You’re being childish_ , he could almost hear Clary’s indignant whisper in the air, even when she wasn’t here. Which was ridiculous but then again, Clary seemed to give him a desperate, disappointed look lately. Simon could hear in her voice; thick and sharp, whenever he was around Jace. 

As if she wanted him to see something.

( _Simon, you’re an idiot_ , Clary would say too before she smacked his arm lightly and then Jace would just smirk at the exchange. The asshole)

“What is-” Jace pulled the sticky note from his forehead, giving the small paper a calculative, suspicious look. “You attacked me with a piece of paper?”

Simon swore he could hear a hint of incredulity somewhere in the tone the blond was using, but to placate the sudden ire in his chest, Simon ignored it and dropped his shoulders instead. “It’s a post-it note,” Simon offered. He took a few steps back from where Jace was lying, _in Simon’s bed_. Like he owned it.

(Jace just broke into his home, his room, one day. So early in the morning. Just like now. And somehow after doing the same thing for months, Simon no longer had any anguish expression to spare. And Jace seemed to take it as his cue to break in whenever he wanted. Whether by day or night)

“A post-it note,” Jace said, bluntly. “Attacking another with a note is a mundane thing then.”

Simon squinted. “It’s a sticky note. It’s not for attacking or anything. But I suppose if you want to stuff all the notes down someone’s throat and choke them-- you know what? Never mind. I’m not going to indulge you and can you move from my bed and let me lie down? I need to go back to sleep and waking up so early just to see your face-”

Jace sighed and plopped back against the pillow. 

“Are you even listening?”

“You’re too loud,” Jace said. Like it would answer everything. Maybe it did, but Simon didn’t question the small smile on Jace’s lips as he glanced briefly at Simon. 

( _Jace is kind to you_ , Clary would whisper sometimes. A glint in her eyes, _and gentle too_ , she’d add. Simon was more than willing to contradict it because Jace was anything but any of that)

“Come here,” Jace ushered him, patting the empty spot on the bed. Next to him. Simon scrunched his nose. He wouldn’t lie down there. Simon was tired, but he wasn’t desperate. He’d sleep on the floor if Jace refused to move from Simon’s messy nest. Bed. Whatever. “Come here,” the blond said again, a tad louder this time.

“Or what?” Simon balled the rest of the sticky notes in his hand.

“Or-,” Jace grinned. Again. Simon wanted to punch his pretty face. Oh no. Fuck. He said pretty. The shadowhunter waved the only sticky note he was holding, emphasizing his next threat with a playful timbre. “-I moan. Loudly.”

What? “What?”

“Oh, imagine your sister’s face. Even better, imagine your mom’s face when she realizes the kind of twisted erotic encounter her son-”

“All right! Fuck, okay.” Asshole. No wonder Clary broke up with the guy. “Don’t moan yet,” Simon warned, fixing his glasses and putting the notes on his desk before he walked towards the bed.

“Yet?” Jace quirked a brow. “Why, Simon, if you want to do something forbidden after this I’d be more-”

Simon jumped into the bed before Jace could finish his line. The dark-haired teen didn’t want to hear the rest. Jace being here was a nightmare enough for him. Jace trying to taint and break his mind was another thing, which Simon knew what Jace was aiming to do at the moment. It seemed that teasing the poor mundane by being completely flirtatious was a new method for Jace to use.

It was effective.

Simon’s poor, weak heart gushed at the false attentions. Curled around like it wished for nothing but for Jace to soothe and play with it until all could Simon feel was a weak whimper whistling through his throat like a songbird. 

(So maybe he had a crush on the jerk. So what?)

“There. Happy?”

“Absolutely,” Jace stamped the sticky note he had been holding onto Simon’s forehead. 

“Hey!”

“You got sticky-noted by me.”

“Sticky-noted? Probably the stupidest declaration of war I’ve ever heard.”

“Whatever,” Jace supplied. Simon’s situation turned from horrible to catastrophic when Jace turned around and pulled Simon closer to him. Arms tangled around Simon’s waist and the small of his back as Jace curled around the slender boy. The blond tucked his face between Simon’s shoulder and neck, inhaling the scent of pure Simon softly before he closed his eyes . Simon panicked. Immobilized. 

Jace’s sighs went even. Fast asleep.

There were many things he should concern himself with but at the very end, Simon decided to focus on the utmost vital thing at the moment; the sticky note on his forehead was kind of ticklish.

-

“I need more of those sticky notes.”

“Why the hell?”

Jace shrugged. “To show dominance.” 

Simon didn’t want to know more. Anything to keep Jace away. So he gave enough supply of sticky notes that would probably last for weeks to Jace. 

Alec, with a bow clenched tightly in his hands, merely narrowed his eyes at the notes. He threw Simon a look, and then Alec stared at his parabatai, askance. Jace turned, smirked at Alec before he left the training room. Not sparing a glance at the mundane and Simon tried not to feel offended at that. He did after all just sacrifice his favorite colorful post-it notes to the blond. A small gratitude would be good. 

“Hey.”

Simon went rigid at Alec’s voice. Always soft, always monotonous but it was often crisped with hidden layers of uncertainty when it came to Simon and Clary. At least, Alec had warmed up to Clary. Albeit slightly. 

“Yeah?” Simon swore his voice didn’t break.

“What was that all about?”

“No idea,” Simon squared his shoulders. He wanted to offer more but Alec had his bow strapped tightly to himself and Simon didn’t want to take the risk of angering the other right now. 

“Okay,” was all Alec said. He shifted on his heels and resumed his training. Again, completely ignoring Simon. 

Oh well. Alec didn’t glare at him. So it was a progress. 

-

Alec had cornered him. Anger was like a pale mask on his face as he glared severely at Simon. As if the other had burned his hair and shaved his eyebrows and okay maybe Simon had thought about doing it once, twice, but he had never come close to committing such an atrocious act because Alec would look less pretty with his slicked eyebrows. 

“This is your fault.”

“I didn’t do anything! I swear I was only trying to pair Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers together!”

“Not that, _you fool_.” 

Shit. Alec’s voice had lowered down into a hiss. 

“Then?”

“Jace.”

Jace? Simon waited. A beat or two and when he realized Alec wouldn’t provide him with a detailed explanation, Simon took it at his chance to ask, “What do you mean?”

Alec’s glare dimmed down. His expression no longer veiled with murderous shadow. Now he just looked… embarrassed. 

“He keeps sticking those notes everywhere,” Alec claimed through clenched teeth. “And when I said everywhere, I meant _everywhere_.”

“Uh,” Simon supplied pointlessly. “I still don’t get it.”

Alec mumbled something under his laborious breath. He produced a small note from his pocket and shoved it at Simon. The other grasped it from Alec and carefully read whatever it that was written on the small paper.

_‘Ass too big to fit through the door’_

Simon blinked. He looked up at a now-flustered Alec.

“Still not getting anything here.”

“Jace stuck it to my ass.”

“Oh,” Simon huffed. “And why would you blame this on me? I’m not his associate in crime or anything.”

“Because you gave him those notes.” As always. Alec wasn’t screaming but his tone was still dripped with poison when his anger was gradually breaking in. “And now Jace thinks he can write whatever he wants on them before sticking it onto any surface he can find.”

“Well, at least your butt is a pretty surface, right?”

Alec hit him in the head.

-

So it lasted for nearly a week and by then, the Institute was almost filled with colorful sticky notes. And eyes would often fall on Simon, judging and blaming him for Jace’s action, which Simon insisted that he was utterly innocent. It didn’t help that Jace made it as his mission to avoid Simon whenever the dark-haired teen wanted to breach the subject regarding the sticky notes.

(Only Clary and Izzy found it ridiculously sweet)

Yet, Jace would still somehow find his way to creep into Simon’s room and waste away his time there, with or without Simon. And sometimes, Simon would find the post-it notes on his desk, his drawer, his wall and behind his door.

_‘Put a better poster on your wall’_

_‘This bed is too small for me’_

_‘Drawer too small for me to hide inside it’_

_‘Room smells like rotten pizza’_

_‘I know what pizza is, Simon’_

_‘Need to throw away that plastic duck’_

Simon wanted to toss the notes away. He was close to doing it. Instead, he collected them, tucking the notes safely in a handmade scrapbook. Solely for a blackmail purpose should he ever need them in the incoming future. 

Still, the newest note that was glued to Simon’s bed had an incomplete sentence scratched to it, or so Simon thought. He could never tell with Jace.

_‘Simon, I think-’_

Something was erased at the end of the sentence and Simon merely disregarded with a simple roll of his eyes. No use pondering over something he had no answer to. 

Simon declined down on the bed with a soft thud, turning around until he could finally hide his face in his pillow.

It smelt like oil and rain. It smelt like Jace.

There was a tap at the window. Simon looked up. Jace was waving at him. Despite himself, despite everything, Simon let the other in and their heat intertwined together when Jace held Simon protectively in his arms. 

There were barely words spoken between them but Jace did put a blank sticky note on Simon’s forehead at least.

Simon laughed and Jace?

Jace looked like he’d been given an entire world at that moment.

-

“You should stop sticking notes on Alec’s butt. He hates it,” Clary reprimanded the blond. Jace narrowed his eyes. 

“Alec gets angry when he’s shown the truth.”

“Telling him that his butt is too big is highly rude,” Isabelle provided, more than willing to support her girlfriend. Clary shot her lover a grateful look. When it came to Jace, you’d need more than one voice to change his mind, Simon should know. Jace refused to stop with the sticky notes situation despite Simon’s threats (and by now, pleads). Anything to keep Alec and other people from glaring at him. Simon was a victim, an innocent bystander. Nothing more.

Why must he be blamed for Jace’s pursuit in posting the notes everywhere his arms could reach?

“Why are you doing this?” Simon asked. Probably for the umpteenth time.

Jace glanced at him. There was a motley of tenderness in those eyes (Simon swallowed) afore Jace bared his teeth like a vicious predator once more. “It’s fun.”

“Fun?” Clary repeated. By now, the red-haired girl slumped down in Izzy’s bed, preferring to hide away from the world in Izzy’s arms. Right, spending time in Izzy’s room was a Sunday thing. Saturday was meant to be spent at Clary’s place, playing board games or watching movies or cooing at cat videos. 

“It’s better than breaking in.”

“Breaking in?” Isabelle piped in. 

“To where?” That was Clary this time.

“Simon’s place,” Jace offered blatantly, fixing his golden strands whilst he leaned back into the old couch. His arm was so close to Simon. All Jace needed to do was to push his arm down to engulf it around Simon’s back. 

Jace didn’t though. He just shot Simon a quick glimpse. 

(Simon felt naked and helpless when the girls threw him a wide grin. What? What now?)

“How long has this been going on?” A new voice questioned. All heads turned to the door as Alec barged in, a stock of junk food in his hand as he slid down near Izzy’s bed, a distance away from the only couple in the room.

“Well-” Simon started. Jace cut him in. “For months now. Simon is more than willing to provide his bed for me.”

Clary, the light of Simon’s life, the voice of reason and Simon’s one true friend, laughed almost too loudly that she choked on her own gasp. Good. The traitor. Let her suffer. 

Izzy smiled and it was laced with thousands of silver approval. 

Alec just raised a brow, more than happy to enjoy his food. 

“And Simon keeps all the notes too, unlike someone,” Jace pointedly narrowed his eyes at Alec. The other huffed. 

“Why should I keep the notes?”

“Because you’re my parabatai?”

“Parabatai does not translate to ‘keeping up with your bullshit all the time’, Jace,” Alec explained mildly. 

“Simon appreciates me.”

“I do not!” Simon quipped. A beat and then, “You knew I keep the notes?”

“You’re not as secretive as you think you are,” Jace said. “And speaking of notes-” Jace produced a pink post-it note from his back pocket, grasped one of the ballpoint pens from Izzy’s desk and wrote something on it. He didn’t allow Simon a second to collect everything in when Jace stamped the sticky note on his forehead. Again.

Why was Jace so fascinated with his forehead anyway?

Whatever it was that written there had caused the other three to beam (Even Alec, wow) at Simon before they started to engage in a small conversation, leaving Jace alone to stare at the note on the crown of Simon’s head. Simon was petulant, raising his hand to remove the note when Jace quickly caught his wrist.

“Don’t.”

Simon blinked. “Why not?”

“You’ll ruin it,” Jace answered. 

“But I want to know what you write down, you jerk.”

Jace quieted down. He peered at Simon. Blank and a white slate as he studied the curve of Simon’s face and no matter how many times Jace did it, it always felt as if the Shadowhunter wanted to mark every nook and skin he could see, wanted to watermark it into his mind and maybe Simon was reading too much into it but Jace’s eyes were always so tender when they were upon Simon. 

The mundane spared a glance at the other, who gladly ignored the duo. Too engrossed in their debate about Magnus’ newest glittered coat. 

“I’ll take it back then.”

Simon turned to look at Jace. “What?”

“The note,” Jace ripped it and lazily bent down to kiss Simon’s forehead, brushing the dark locks between his fingers and burying his nose in Simon’s hair. The flutter of feathers in Simon’s chest was crisp, frantic like a morning wind. And just when Simon was about to react, Jace backed away and stretched his back. 

Simon bit the inside of his lips.

He wanted to say more but the moment was halted when Magnus entered the room and demanded a kiss from his lover.

Alec sighed and that was it.

-

“I think Jace likes me,” Simon said to Clary.

“Yeah,” was all Clary offered as she read the pink sticky note Jace put on her wall.

_‘What should I do? Simon is nerdy cute’_

Clary’s lips curved upward. Boys. 

-

Simon found Jace on his rooftop one night, sitting near his window as Jace blew bubbles into the nocturnal clouds without a care. Simon batted his eyes, assuring his sight that it was really the notorious Jace Wayland, blowing bubbles, squinting childishly at the plastic blower whenever the bubble popped before it had the opportunity to afloat. 

“This thing sucks,” Jace said.

“It’s because you blow the bubbles too quickly. Here, let me do it.”

Jace tried to retort. Simon would have none of it when he snatched the bottle and the blower from the blond, straightening his back and enjoying the other’s inner turmoil. Jace disliked it when Simon bested him in something. It wounded his ego. And well, not his fault if Simon enjoyed the half-pout from Jace.

There was a casual gentleness in Simon’s movement when he carefully dipped the blower into the liquid and puffed a breath to create a small bubble. From the corner of his eyes, Simon could spot how keen Jace was with the result, sharply eyeing the forming bubble like a child. 

The bubble floated then, whisked away by the wind like a soft petal before it burst.

And Jace grinned.

“See? You suck at it too.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “It was meant to pop anyway.”

“What, really?”

“Yes.”

“That’s just-” Jace flailed his arms, aghast. “That’s just pointless. What’s the purpose of it then?”

“Because it’s fun,” Simon put the tiny bottle down next to him. He didn't bother to ask where Jace got it.

(They didn’t talk about the forehead kiss. It had been weeks and none of them brought it up ever)

“Ah,” Jace said, pondered. “Like the post-it notes.”

Simon groaned. “That’s not fun. I’m constantly in trouble because of you. Maryse was angry at me, twice.”

“Yeah, I told her it was your idea.”

“Jace!”

“It's the truth,” there was a stretch of laughter in Jace’s words. Rare for it to be there so Simon drank the delight in the other’s voice, and hummed along with the breeze when it poked at his cheeks. Hopefully, it wouldn’t rain tonight.

Simon yawned and-

_Thump_

“What?” Simon squinted at the note on his cheek. Jace was grinning at him. 

“What is it now?” he pulled the note and read it.

_‘Ride with me?’_

“Ride?” Simon shifted, eyes on the blond. “Ride what? To where?”

“Come,” was all Jace said as he stood and gracefully landed on the ground below, looking up and waiting for Simon to mimic him, which was just too much. Simon wasn’t even close to a ninja and that was probably one of the reasons why he wanted to become a Jedi when he was a kid. 

“You know I’ll die from the fall if I do the same, right?” Simon peered from the edge of the rooftop. From his vision, he could see a bike, possibly belonged to an experienced rider and Jace didn’t look anything but so Simon wondered if the other had _borrowed_ another ride again.

“Die? That’s exaggeration.” 

“Okay, fine. But I still can get hurt!”

“Then use the stairs,” Jace said, annoyed. He turned without looking back as he started the engine. It roared into the night and for a moment, Simon thought his mother or sister might come out just to follow the source of the noise. They didn’t though. 

Simon grabbed his jacket and followed Jace.

Carpe Diem, right?

-

Simon begrudgingly admitted that Jace was a good rider. Not that good, but good enough that Simon could ease himself against the warmth of Jace’s back. And the engine was inaudible enough as the bike tracked along the almost empty road as the moon continued to paint the sky behind them.

They didn’t speak but Simon could catch the low hum from Jace sometimes, too soft that he wouldn’t have heard it if Simon didn’t wind his arms around Jace’s waist and laid his cheek on the leather clad. He was sleepy.

The world almost lulled him into sleep but Simon was stubborn and he didn’t want to miss even a second of this with Jace. It wasn’t as if it could happen every day. Tomorrow, the day after tomorrow or maybe a month after that - Jace could stop and see that there was no use hanging around Simon anymore. Regardless if he suspected that Jace was in _like_ with him. 

Simon wasn’t a dreamer. He rarely hoped. 

So Simon sighed into Jace’s back, tightened his arms as his gaze sought the world upward, the buildings and the people. He hadn’t thought the world could both be this silent and busy before and as he caught a small chuckle from the blond - Simon thought that he wouldn’t wish for a bright future or some stuff like that. He’d just wish that Jace would be kind enough to spare him a smile, once in a while. 

Simon adored the twinkle in Jace’s eyes the most when he smiled. 

They stopped at a red light. Not too many vehicles to crowd the city. 

And Jace, the bastard he was, used the few seconds left to hand Simon a rumpled, pink sticky note. Simon instantly knew it was the same note from the previous night. Where Jace had ripped it from him before he spared Simon a forehead kiss. 

Simon took it, read it, and laughed.

_‘Can I kiss you?’_

“Yeah, asshole, of course you can.”

Simon thought that there were far worse things in life than being honked by the car behind them when Jace kissed Simon as if Simon was the only riches Jace ever needed. A precious gem so cherished that he’d be hidden from the world, embraced and spoiled by the golden shadowhunter until everything withered away by dust and time. 

When they broke away, Jace’s laugh stirred like a thousand bells. 

-

Days later, two blue post-it notes were glued on the mirror in Simon’s room. Simon never ripped it off.

_‘Does the nerd want to date the mighty shadowhunter?_

_-Jace’_

_‘The nerd does. And stop addressing yourself as ‘mighty’, Jace, for fuck’s sake_

_-Simon’_

-


End file.
